


Good Vibrations

by The_Cilantro_Family



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: American Sign Language, Anal Sex, Dancing, Deaf Character, Developing Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, relationship drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-07-15 09:08:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7216333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Cilantro_Family/pseuds/The_Cilantro_Family
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lovino wasn’t a fun guy to talk to, he knew this very well. When he signed he was speaking, not putting on a show. Usually his expression represented what he was feeling, rather than what he was saying. But this guy, for some reason, was different. He acted like he wanted to talk to Lovino even though Lovino had nothing interesting to say, and no interesting way to say it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Originally this started as an entirely different fanfic and somehow it sprouted itself into what will become its own full blown multi-chapter piece. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and the beginning of the next two. I hope you enjoy reading it as well. 
> 
> I was going for more of a stream-of-consciousness style of writing with this one as I wanted it to flow more like someone was telling a story than my last one.
> 
> Please review!
> 
> NOTE! The things italicized inside apostrophes are in sign language, whereas things just inside apostrophes are written, just in case the difference wasn’t as obvious as I tried to make it out to be. 
> 
> -FEELS

The music was fast, mind-numbingly thumping and just on the edge of overwhelming. The bodies writhed together on the dance floor like fluid mass of sweat and bad intentions, and it made him feel insignificant in the midst of it. 

But this was the kind of insignificance that Lovino liked. It was so much different than being pointed out and noticed by the general population for lacking something people considered inherent, or being compared to his brother by people who didn’t know any better. It wasn’t feeling insignificant because he wasn’t as special, or because he was special in all the wrong ways. It was being insignificant because everything was insignificant and everything was bleeding together into one incredible high that Lovino could feel in his bones. 

Lovino was addicted to it. At first it had been too much. It was scary, walking into a room with so much to see and no safety net to catch him if he really couldn’t handle it. He’d never had so much to focus on in his life. But the point of it was to not focus on anything, and once he fell into a rhythm of dancing to the soul rumbling vibrations he was hooked.

No one came here to be coddled, it wasn’t a place for people who wanted a relaxing night. Good Vibrations was for people who wanted to disappear into the oblivion of the music and the people and the liquor. You weren’t seen, you weren’t heard, and you didn’t feel anything that you didn’t want to. There was a certain numbness to it that had Lovino couldn’t get enough of. It was soothing, and the Italian would often come when he was feeling down or stressed out by everything else to let loose and feel like a part of something more. 

People didn’t walk up to him and sign here. They usually didn’t try to communicate at all, yet somehow Lovino always felt a little closer to the strangers on the dance floor than he did anyone else. Lovino could tell the club was very, very loud by how deeply he could feel it resonate. No one could hear anyone else, and interaction was usually on a purely physical level. 

And that, Lovino could do. 

Tonight, however, there was something different in the air. He didn’t know what, but it kept him from closing his eyes as much and drowning everything else out. There was something different about tonight, and he had to figure out what before he could fall into the comforting spiral of energy. 

Hands on his hips made Lovino jump. They held him in place so he couldn’t turn around to see who the person was, but by the breath on his neck and the lips near his ear Lovino assumed whoever-it-was was coming onto him. 

The Italian didn’t stop dancing, and the person behind him merely danced along, hands following his hips fluidly without influencing the movements. They moved together, and Lovino fed off of the movements of the other to keep him with the beat of the music more than he did the vibrations for once. It wasn’t the first time Lovino had danced with someone else, but it was the first time it had been so easy. 

There was a lull in the crowd and the thumping abruptly stopped. The song was over, and a quick glance told Lovino that the DJ was saying something, though he didn’t feel all too bad for missing whatever he was animatedly yelling into his microphone. Instead of trying to make it out, Lovino took his chance to turn around and see who the mystery man behind him was. 

The first thing he saw was dark curly hair. His estimate of the guy’s height had been off. The man was only an inch or two taller than Lovino, so he had to practically look straight ahead before he saw light colored eyes and a smile that managed to blend friendly and sexy into one dumb grin. 

“What’s your name?” His lips continued moving, but Lovino had trouble making out what they were supposed to be saying after that. Some silly nickname, perhaps, designed to win him over. 

Lovino didn’t respond, instead looking the man in front of him up and down. He was very attractive in a conventional Mediterranean way. Dark skin, bright eyes, lean muscle, manly in a lazy European kind of way; coincidently the kind of man Lovino had always fantasized about.

Except maybe a little shorter and plumper than his usual dream hunk.

A shift in the man’s facial expression caught Lovino’s attention, as the friendly turned into something darker and hotter. “Ah, I see. Hard to get, yes?” Lovino felt the hands around his hips twist into his belt loops before he was jerked forward, their hips colliding. “I always did like a challenge.”

What the hell, Lovino could be labelled hard to get. It was better than being labelled deaf. 

Never mind that he was disgustingly desperate for some attention that wasn’t from his family. 

The vibrations started up again, and Lovino merely answered him with a raised brow, a silent question as he decided to masquerade as hard-to-get for the time being. He couldn’t help but smirk when it went exactly the way he was hoping it would. 

“Would you like to get a drink? I will be paying, of course.” His lips formed the words smoothly, different from the typical American. With such an endearing smile Lovino could never have turned him down so he raised his shoulders and tilted his head to the side, agreeing without seeming too eager or revealing too much. 

Another bright smile greeted him, and he was only slightly disappointed when the man let go of his belt loops to take his hand instead. Mystery-hunk lead him to the bar as Lovino trailed behind enough to get a good look at the other man’s toned ass. 

Goddamn, he didn’t even know if he was aroused or jealous. 

They passed loads of people on the trek to the other end of the long building and he nearly ran into half of them, but eventually they found a spot at the far end of the bar where the only two consecutive seats were available.

Lovino sat so he was facing the taller man. He may be fine with coming off as hard to get, but he didn’t want to seem rude and lose his company for the night just because he hadn’t realized they were speaking. Luckily, he didn’t have to stare at him for too long before he was being addressed again. 

A glass was placed in front of him unexpectedly, and his eyes quickly darted over to see who had placed it there and what it was. From the looks of it Antonio had ordered him something alcoholic. Lovino didn’t even try to hide the black ‘X’ on the back of his hand as he picked it up and took a hesitant sip.

It was alcoholic, Lovino deduced, but it was almost too fruity to tell, and it was really, really tasty. A glance to his side revealed that Mr. Assumes-A-Lot had ordered himself a beer and had already downed a shot of something else. Lovino wasn’t sure if he should have been offended that a fruity drink had been ordered for him or impressed because, aside from wine, he’d ever thought that alcoholic drinks had tasted good.

A hand was waved in front of his face, snapping him out of his stupor he’d fallen in staring at the empty shot glass. There was an odd expression on Antonio’s face when Lovino finally looked towards him. His brows were furrowed, and his smile had almost completely left his face, only leaving a dumb quirk in the corners. 

“Did you not hear me?” He asked. Lovino rolled his eyes and shook his head. He hadn’t heard anything his entire life, and that wasn’t going to change any time soon.

“I asked you if you were alright? You had zoned out.” There was concern in his expression rather than the expected annoyance. He only nodded in response. 

Lovino didn’t socialize with people. Not like this, at least. How was he supposed to hold a conversation without revealing that he couldn’t actually hear a word the other was saying, nor could he verbally reply? 

“You do not say much, do you?” The man asked, taking a swig from his beer, and he laughed when Lovino only shook his head in response. The way the other man’s face lit up intrigued him. There was no malice in the amusement. What a fucking friendly guy. “Why is that?”

That question stopped him halfway through the drink he was taking of his nameless fruity concoction. It wasn’t a simple yes or no question, so now the hunk who had never gotten a name was either going to leave because Lovino was a rude bastard who didn’t answer, or he was going to leave because he was deaf. 

No one ever wanted to go home with a deaf guy. When Lovino ended up sleeping with someone it was usually because the other person was too drunk to realize or too horny to care. He’d accepted long ago that most people were uncomfortable when they tried to hold to a conversation with him whether they were hard of hearing or not, but it never made it sting any less when people cut conversations short.

Lovino’s mood plummeted, and instead of answering the guy Lovino gulped down the rest of his drink and slammed the girly little margarita glass down on the counter, staring at the empty glass like it had personally offended him. Why had he thought this would end well, trying to hold a conversation without really reciprocating? Why had he even agreed to come over here before they were practically humping each other?

There were three quick taps on his shoulder, and Lovino threw his head back around towards the man, ready for him to excuse himself before he even learned his name.

Instead the man pointed to his ear and dragged it down towards his lips, his eyebrows raised in an implied question. 

_‘Deaf?’_

Lovino stared at him wide-eyed, looking from his hands to his face and back again. Had mystery-man just signed to him? Surely not. The universe had never been that kind. Lovino didn’t answer, but the man moved his hands again. This time Lovino paid attention.

 _‘My f-r-i-e-n-d-s brother t-e-a-c-h-e-s a-s-l’_ He was very halting with his sign language; he would start and stop often and his form was atrocious. The man obviously didn’t use it often- he even had to spell out most of it- but sure enough the bastard was signing to him.

Lovino turned in his chair suddenly, and started emphatically moving his hands and mouthing ‘No’, nearly hitting miracle-guy in the face when he swiped his hand across the air to sign _‘No way’_. After scooting himself back on his stool a little, he continued, his hands moving in quick, excited motions. _‘Really? You sign?’_

The other man looked confused, scratching the back of his head sheepishly before he shook his head and started tracing circles in the middle of his chest with a fist. His form was so sloppy it took Lovino a moment to realize the man was apologizing. 

Obviously the guy wasn’t very well versed, but it was something. It was more than most people. There was an attractive, gay man out there who was both attracted to Lovino and knew how to sign, even if it was basic at best. He couldn’t stop the wild grin from spreading across his face like a grass fire in the plains, igniting something within him. 

Lovino pointed to the stranger and spelled out _‘N-a-m-e?’_ slow enough for him to translate it into a word. After a minute his full lips formed the word while his pointer and middle finger of both hands tapped together twice. Apparently that was a sign he knew, and Lovino nodded. 

Suddenly the other guy held up a finger in the universal ‘wait’ symbol, and he started patting around his ass a few times-which looked rather comical while he was sitting down- before he pulled out his phone. He clicked around a few times before he started typing, turned completely away from Lovino and facing the back of the bar.

Fucking really? The guy had gotten bored of him already apparently, had something better to do. 

Whatever, it wouldn’t be the first time an asl beginner had done something like that, but ignoring him to answer a text? He wasn’t hot enough for Lovino to put up with something like that. The temperamental Italian moved to get off of the stool, his expression carved back into a scowl before he was pushed back into his seat and a phone was shoved in his hands. 

The screen was tinted yellow and lined like a notebook- his memos apparently- and the only words on the page formed a sentence. ‘Ill tell mine whn u telk me urs’

Lovino scoffed, looking back up at the bastard with an amused expression. He was trying to sign out _‘i-n a h-u-r-r-y’_ in his very sloppy sign language to likely explain his awful English. Lovino had never been so happy to see someone try so hard to talk to him, even if it was just for the novelty of having a conversation with a deaf person. This man didn’t know his family or his situation, yet he seemed to genuinely want to talk to the deaf guy he’d invited for drinks.

Maybe he was just being polite or hoping for a cool story to tell, but he was hot and he was trying and that’s more than Lovino could say for most.

So he didn’t hesitate to type his name and hand the phone back. 

It looked like Antonio said his name aloud when he read it, but his lips didn’t move enough for Lovino to really be able to tell. He set his phone down on the bar and clearly signed _‘A-n-t-o-n-i-o’_ in response. That he could sign relatively well without muddling the letters together. 

Lovino could still feel the music thumping, vibrating his seat and the countertop when it fell into a particularly fast and harsh rhythm. He wondered if Antonio was having a hard time concentrating with all of the noise.

Snatching Antonio’s phone of the counter and thankful that there wasn’t a password or pattern lock on it Lovino typed out a message before practically throwing the phone back at him, his face flaming.

‘Do you want to go somewhere else?’

Antonio looked at him with a bright, eager smile as he took him by the hand once again. Lovino was lead him out of the club and to the curb right underneath the neon Good Vibrations sign. Antonio stopped him to ask _‘w-h-i-c-h c-a-r?’_. He was already getting more fluid as he signed, but his form was still sloppy as shit. 

Lovino briefly considered the dangers of getting in the car with a stranger and decided that getting in the car with his brother was even worse. The Italian pointed towards Antonio in the sign for _‘you’_ rather than using the correct sign for _‘yours’_. If the curly haired man knew as little sign language as Lovino thought he did the sign might have looked more like Lovino was telling him to stop.

With a nod Antonio turned towards the right and started walking into the dimly lit parking lot. A gentle pressure on Lovino’s hand kept him in step with the other man as an anxious feeling bubbled up from the pit of Lovino’s stomach like acid reflux. He was lead to meager truck that was built more for getting places than it was for style. 

Antonio led him all the way to the passenger side of the truck and opened the door for him before he finally let go of his hand. Before getting in the car, Lovino moved his hand around in front of his face signing ‘silly bastard’. He was aware that Antonio probably had no idea what he had said, and that was just the way he preferred it. 

Antonio gave him a funny look, but he didn’t get a chance to question him before Lovino shut the door himself and made a show of pushing the lock down and buckling his seat belt. Antonio stared at him through the window with that same dumb expression on his face until Lovino knocked against the window and snapped him out of it. 

The truck gave a great rumble as it started up, and continued to vibrate as Antonio flipped around and pulled out of the parking spot. Lovino always wanted a car like this, one where he could feel the engine working, but instead he’d gotten his grandfather’s decade old Lamborghini. He couldn’t really complain, it was a very nice car and it made him look like he was worth something but when it came to cars Lovino had always preferred power over style. 

Plus the thing broke down all the damn time. 

He was a very corporeal person. Lovino preferred to feel things rather than see them, unlike his brother. There was so much that could be missed by the eyes alone, and so much that could be understood through a physical connection. Of course, sight was important. It was how he got through his day, and how he compensated for not being able to hear in a world that saw deafness as a disability, but touch was how he preferred to interact with the world. If he could feel the thumping of the music, or the rumbling of the car he didn’t feel like he needed to hear despite what the world tried to tell him. 

Lovino had been deaf for his entire life, along with his mother and little brother and a good bit of the family, so it wasn’t like he missed hearing things. Most of the time it wasn’t even a thought that crossed his mind. The movies always had subtitles, the plays always had interpreters, and the roads were friendly to the hard-of-hearing. But the modern world was built for five senses, not four, and there was no way to deny that. 

Lovino never felt bad for not being able to hear, but authority figures in his young life had tried to convince him he did. Most of his favorite toys as a young child lit up and moved around and, as his grandfather had explained to him one day, played music. 

The first time he had realized that the button he liked to press on the back of his favorite action figure made it speak, Lovino had thrown it against a wall and stomped on it until it was unfixable, and then he’d cried because he’d lost his favorite toy. He’d grown up signing. English itself was a second language to him and still a majority of the world thought he was dumb because they didn’t know any better. 

Sight was deceiving, misleading, and confusing. Most things didn’t look like they had sound, but when he touched things he could experience it all, more than most would imagine. 

There was a home video buried somewhere in the attic of the first time that Nonno had played music for Lovino and Feliciano. He had borrowed some speakers from one of his friends, plugged his guitar into them, and held Feliciano and Lovino’s hands to them as he strummed. Feliciano had been too young at the time to understand what the vibrations meant, and he quickly retracted his hand from the weird feeling. 

Lovino, however, had been ecstatic and he’d started bouncing around and grinning like his grandfather had just given him the universe. Everyone’s favorite part of the video was where Lovino tried to ask his grandfather to make it vibrate more without removing his hands from the speaker by trying to sign with his feet. 

That had been his big present for Christmas that year, and that night he’d turned them on late at night to feel the vibrations dance, to feel the music in the most literal sense possible rattle deep in his core so he’d turned the knob as far as it would go. His father, the only hearing one in the house at the time, had been furious. 

For a while Lovino had been obsessed with feeling everything to know what he was missing by merely looking at things. He had been introduced to something new, and at the hardy age of five he had created his own world out of the beats and textures he could feel, and Lovino was always making noise and touching things just to see what he could pick up on. 

He’d often thought that had been why his father left. More than once Lovino had broken things in the house and woken him up at odd times in the night with whatever racket he was attempting to make. In reality the view society had on deaf people had finally won him over. 

But society was wrong. Lovino didn’t feel disabled or left out because he’d never been able to hear in the first place. It was the movements he missed when everything was silent and still. Often times he would turn on the speakers whenever he needed to do homework or read something for the same reason a hearing person would. It made him feel like he wasn’t alone. 

Lovino was shaken from his thoughts when Antonio stopped at a red light, and reached over to turn the volume on the radio down. Lovino looked over to figure out why to see Antonio frantically trying to fingerspell before the light turned green again. He was in such a hurry that his form was even worse if that was possible, and Lovino could hardly tell the difference between an ‘a’ and a ‘c’ and a ‘y’. Antonio looked so frantic about trying to say whatever he was saying. His eyes kept darting from his hands to the light to make sure it hadn’t turned green. 

Lovino’s lips turned upwards for the second time that night and he had to wonder why this guy that he’d met barely half an hour ago had such an effect on him. His own brother couldn’t get him to smile more than a couple times in a conversation no matter how hard he tried, but Antonio was hardly doing anything to earn it. 

The smile must have looked mocking somehow, or whatever Antonio was trying to fingerspell really wasn’t entertaining because he stopped, waved his hands around as if to erase the previous letter from the air, and started over much more clearly this time. His movements were more precise, and Lovino was able to make out what Antonio was trying to say, but his form was still severely lacking. 

_‘T-h-a-t b-a-d?’_

Lovino nodded his head, smile still firmly in place because hell yes it was that bad. He figured if Antonio was going to understand the majority of what he said he’d need to fingerspell and phrase things in proper English like Antonio had been doing rather than proper asl. His dominant hand began bouncing and flicking around in the air, spelling out his response relatively slowly and even pausing so Antonio knew where the breaks between words were. All in all Lovino thought he was being pretty considerate. 

_‘Y-e-s i-t w-a-s t-h-a-t b-a-d b-u-t I c-a-n u-s-u-a-l-l-y u-n-d-e-r-s-t-a-n-d a-n-y-w-a-y’_

Antonio watched his fingers; his expression grew more helpless the longer Lovino continued trying to communicate and he knew he had lost him. He sat there with a furrowed, pinched kind of expression for a minute before taking a deep breath and raising his hands to sign something that was likely telling Lovino he didn’t know what he was saying. 

It wouldn’t be new. People rarely could understand Lovino when he signed unless they were fluent like Feliciano. Sometimes his grandfather couldn’t even keep up because Lovino often refused to mouth the words or make exaggerated expressions even if he knew the person he was talking to was a novice. 

Antonio would probably be able to understand Feliciano, even if the dimwit was speaking completely in sign and not even fingerspelling for him. 

Before Antonio could get to proving Lovino right, however, he jumped violently, his head spinning around to look behind him, and then back towards the light that had flipped to green in the meantime. He looked troubled for a second before he grabbed a hold of the wheel again and accelerated. After he passed the intersection he started rubbing a fist in circles against his chest again. 

Apologizing _again_ because he couldn’t understand Lovino. 

The Italian turned to face the window, fully intending to look at the lights and pout about his troubles until they reached wherever they were going. 

Antonio, however, didn’t intend to let him. Just down the street Antonio turned sharply into a Panda Express parking lot. It was almost midnight and the restaurant was closed, so he had no trouble finding a parking spot. Lovino was amused that he even pulled into one correctly to begin with. 

After putting the car into park with a very decisive motion the brunette yanked his phone out from his back pocket and started typing furiously. Lovino didn’t want to get his hopes up, but the situation was the same as it had been earlier than night and it was hard not expect it when Antonio thrust the phone into his hands, the memo page open and the remnants of their past conversation visible. 

‘Im sry Im not v good at this. Englishisn’t even my 1st languag and I took the clas bc I thought how it would be fun and free so I only know the abcs and a few siple things. But Ill grt better so pls don’t be upset!’ 

Lovino felt his heart soar, twist painfully, and fall flat on its face. Antonio had quit driving just so he could say whatever he wanted to say and he had said he would get better at it, implying that this wouldn’t be the last time they talked. The idea of having someone to talk to that wasn’t a family member or someone from the deaf community was exciting. Usually people who weren’t hard of hearing only wanted to talk to him for the novelty of it, and often they would leave once they realized they couldn’t understand Lovino as easily as they had imagined. 

Lovino wasn’t a fun guy to talk to, he knew this very well. When he signed, he was speaking, not putting on a show. Usually his expression represented what he was feeling, rather than what he was saying. But this guy, for some reason, was different. He acted like he wanted to talk to Lovino even though Lovino had nothing interesting to say, and no interesting way to say it. 

Lovino didn’t understand why Antonio wanted to try so hard just for one man, and the idea of it all was intimidating, but Lovino was also cruelly excited at the idea of having a real friend. He knew it probably wouldn’t last. Hell, he’d be surprised if it lasted longer than just one night. 

But, he supposed, there was no harm in trying. There was something different about Antonio. Lovino just had to figure out what that different thing was. 

After a moment of hesitation, Lovino responded and handed the phone back. 

‘You’re right, you’re awful at it and your form is hideous, but when you aren’t trying to rush I can understand you well enough. But signing is a language, you know, you have to work at it.’ 

Antonio finished reading and looked up at Lovino, beaming- though the Italian couldn’t understand why- before he started typing again. 

‘I already learnEnglish for strangers I cn learn asl fr a friend’ 

Lovino flushed when he read it. So Antonio really considered him a friend already? 

‘I am not your friend. We don’t even know each other.’ 

The bastard shook his head and gave Lovino a scolding look as if he had said something out of line. 

‘Thats why were goin to the cafe to tlak’ 

When Lovino read the message he couldn’t help but look back over at Antonio with a puzzled expression. Since when were they going to a coffee place to talk? Lovino had thought they were going to Antonio’s house to screw. Color him surprised. 

‘Café?’ 

It wasn’t hard to get into a rhythm of passing the phone back and forth. Even the periods in between typing weren’t awkward if he took the time to scrutinize the man in the driver’s seat. 

‘Yes this is wht I say to u athe stoplight’ 

Lovino had no trouble believing that Antonio’s first language was not English. He looked foreign, and he sounded foreign when he typed. It made Lovino wonder where Antonio was from, but now was not the appropriate time to ask. A witty comeback was more apropos. 

‘Oh, you were saying something? I thought you were just waving your hand around.’ 

Antonio balked, and placed his hand over his chest in a dramatic wounded gesture. 

‘U sad that it was nt so bad!’ 

The response made Lovino laugh, which caught him off guard more than anything. It wasn’t often that he laughed, and it was practically unheard of for him to do so naturally. He blinked himself back into focus and blamed it on the alcohol. The bastard wasn’t that funny. Lovino must have just been in a good mood. 

‘I said that it was awful, actually. And it is. But I was being sarcastic a moment ago.’ 

When Lovino looked up again to hand the phone back Antonio looked awestruck, like he’d seen a diamond as big as his head in the arms of a supermodel who was standing in front of God himself. Lovino gave him the phone back and ignored it, and refused to look at him when the phone was passed back his way. 

‘You have a beautiful laugh’ 

It was the first thing Antonio had typed completely correct. Lovino looked up and he knew couldn’t believe the sincerity in his acid green eyes yet he blushed all the same. His response was easy enough. 

‘I wouldn’t know.’ 

Antonio gave him a curious look. It was unreadable, even to someone with as much experience as Lovino. There were traces of sadness and amusement, understanding and confusion, synonyms and antonyms alike. In response to it Lovino narrowed his eyes but offered nothing else. 

There was a long pause before Antonio began typing again but fortunately only part of it was spent staring at Lovino with that confusing expression, and when the response came it was a short and simple topic change. 

‘To the cafenow! ‘ 

Lovino pretended he wasn’t disappointed. 

They spent the rest of the night talking at the all night coffee place Antonio took them to. They mostly used the memos on Antonio’s phone, but every so often Antonio would start to sign again for a brief period. It seemed like it was easier for the Spaniard to communicate while they were sitting at a private table in the small quaint coffee shop since there weren’t any distractions, and he’d had time to sober up. 

But, as Lovino found out, that was a double edged sword. Antonio had nothing to distract him from typing correctly or fingerspelling more coherently, but he also had nothing to distract him from Lovino and more than once Lovino felt his face catch fire when he’d look up from typing to see Antonio’s intense green stare on him. 

Lovino told him to cut it out, to which Antonio merely smiled. The Italian pretended he didn’t know it was hypocritical of him to ask such a thing when he spent all his non-communicating time staring at him as well. 

But it wasn’t his fault the bastard had an unusually attractive face. 

In that one night Lovino learned more about Antonio than he knew about some of the people he saw on a weekly basis. Antonio liked talking to him with his hands, his expression, and his phone, and Lovino liked the attention too much to make him stop. 

Antonio never asked him why he was deaf or talked to him like he was stupid. He didn’t even ask if Lovino could read lips when he started shaking his hands out because they’d been cramping up. Antonio payed rapt attention when Lovino actually signed to him, and he never blamed Lovino if he couldn’t understand. 

Lovino thought he was a dream come true in all honesty, but that just made him all the more suspicious. 

As the clock was nearing two thirty in the morning the conversation was very quickly nearing its close. Their topics had dulled down to the décor of the café they were in and how comfortable the couch in the corner looked. It was lackluster at best, but still it didn’t end until Lovino suggested that they turn in for the night. 

Antonio looked a bit troubled but agreed anyways, and Lovino couldn’t decide if it was flattering or disappointing. 

The Spaniard bid the waitress a farewell and led Lovino out to his car. It was one of only three in the parking lot, but still he pointed towards it before Lovino could embarrass himself by going over to the black truck instead of the red one in his sleepy daze. 

There was no conversation on the way back to the parking lot of Good Vibrations- which was almost completely empty as well- until Lovino had to direct Antonio to his car because the bastard wouldn’t just let him walk to it himself. 

As Lovino was sliding out of the tall diesel beast, Antonio grabbed him by the wrist and didn’t let him leave until Lovino had taught Antonio how to say goodbye and had done it at least a dozen times. 

The drive home was its usual blend of late night city traffic and bright lights over a dark background. He shed his clothes as soon as he stepped inside the door of his single room apartment with a note to pick them up later and flopped himself face first in bed. 

Just as dreamland was approaching with green eyes and a bright smile Lovino realized they had never exchanged phone numbers or any means of contact and his heart fell to the pit of his stomach. 

At least, he though, it was good while it lasted. 

The next Friday Lovino was back at his favorite club. He’d dressed skimpier than usual in the tightest pants he owned and a shirt that was perfectly made to show off his lower stomach. Tonight he wasn’t just here to let loose, he wanted someone to go home with. 

Everyone was blending into one fluid mesh of skin as usual, and all of the songs had bass beats so similar Lovino could never remember if they’d played the song before or not. It was rhythmic and hazy and perfect after the absolutely shitty week he’d had. 

Lovino was bouncing to the beat with his arms raised in a way that he knew would make his shirt ride up and expose more skin, and when he felt two large hands grab him by the hips he knew his clothes had done their job well. 

The two of them swayed to the beat, grinding against each other when the moment felt right. For the first couple of songs Lovino had stayed with his back facing the man behind him. They moved fluidly, easily, and it only made his mood plummet when he was reminded of what it was like dancing with Antonio the week prior. 

Lovino’s breath hitched when he felt warm lips on his neck, the hands on his hips pressing him just a little bit closer, holding him just a little bit tighter, and Lovino forgot why he was upset at all. 

Suddenly, right in the middle of the song, Lovino was twirled around. He went with it easily enough. 

The first thing he saw was dark, curly hair- his estimate had been off again, dammit!- and then bright green eyes and a familiar blinding smile. 

The Italian’s face lit up into a wild grin. Last week he had been so sure he was never going to see the man again. He’d been in an awful mood most of the week because of it but now he was back and Lovino didn’t even care to hide how happy it made him. 

Maybe the universe actually wanted him to have a friend for once. 

Antonio nodded towards the bar, and Lovino took the hint and quickly dragged him over. Lovino was practically bouncing as he greeted the Spaniard and waited for him to order their drinks, his smile never faltering. 

Lovino watched with big, childlike eyes as Antonio pointed to his chin with his pointer and middle finger and curled them down twice. 

_‘So cute!’_

He balked, his expression pinching back into its usual scowl. Antonio’s smirk told him that the bastard was pretty proud of himself, but it was met with narrowed, suspicious eyes. Lovino began to fingerspell slowly and concisely in a comically serious way. 

_‘B-a-d w-o-r-d! W-h-o t-a-u-g-h-t you t-h-a-t?’_

Lovino couldn’t deny that it made his heart beat that much faster, however, when Antonio’s leg brushed his. When did he become such a girl? 

_‘I am learning asl for you’_

The signs he was using weren’t even that hard, and Lovino had no doubt that he’d spent his time learning a handful of ones that he was positive he’d use. It was extremely flattering to say the least, even if Antonio was doing it all for his own reasons. Lovino took a large drink of his fruity something-or-another before throwing his dominant hand around in a mock-angry gesture. 

_‘Damn charmer’_

The confused expression on his face proved to Lovino that he was right about Antonio only learning a few phrases. Somehow, Lovino wasn’t all that disappointed. 

_‘S-t-i-l-l n-o-t g-o-o-d sorry’_

Sorry really seemed to be this guy’s favorite phrase, but it didn’t dull the warm fuzzy feeling in the pit of Lovino’s stomach. God, he really was pathetic, wasn’t he? A few phrases were all it took to win him over. 

But… he had come here to get laid tonight, hadn’t he? 

Lovino thrust one hand out towards Antonio, while the other came up towards his ear in the ‘telephone’ sign. Even Antonio should have been able to figure that out. 

He did. Not even five seconds later Lovino had the Spaniard’s phone in his hand which, he noticed, was already open to a fresh memo page right after he unlocked it. He typed the same phrase he had used last time. 

‘Do you want to go somewhere else?’ 

Antonio was quick to place the phone down on the counter and fingerspell _’C-a-f-e?’_ with the cutest hopeful expression, Lovino almost felt bad about suggesting something else. 

But the more committed Antonio was to using his sloppy sign language, the less Lovino thought he could control himself. He was already horny and somehow the bastard seemed more attractive this week than he had the last. 

Lovino put on his most seductive grin as he reached over to grab his phone again, and he slyly peeked over the phone as he typed. Antonio raised a brow and his smile fell into a smirk. Both of them knew what the other was thinking. 

‘I was actually thinking my house. I have a very comfortable bed.’ 

He couldn’t help but turn a deep red when he handed the phone back, especially when Antonio gave him an absolutely smoldering look. 

‘I was thinking you would never ask’ 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to make a note for people who may not know- Sign language, no matter the country of origin, is a completely different language. The grammar is very different, but I'll be typing it out in regular English for easier reading, and because that would be how it sounds to Lovino. In asl there aren't really any helping verbs, and the verb 'to be' is rarely, if ever used. That's why Antonio spells these words out when he may know the rest of the words in the sentence. He'd not got a handle on the words enough to worry about grammar. 
> 
> Also, nothing really happens aside from establishing things and filler stuff but hey! Smut!

_‘Bastard, pay attention. Watch my hands.’_

Lovino was by no means ever meant to be a teacher, but he was trying his best to fix the atrocious signing that he was exposed to every weekend. Very carefully he began to sign out of the alphabet, putting a special emphasis on his fingers to make them rigidly point and fold in the proper direction like he was taught back in school. 

This was all for his benefit, really. Antonio got nothing out of the deal but a better grasp on asl, and Lovino was probably the only person he’d ever use it with. Lovino was the one who got to have those vibrant eyes watching him so diligently through his lesson.

No, the bastard wasn’t getting anything remotely rewarding out of the experience, especially when Lovino started to refuse to fingerspell unless there was no other way for Antonio to understand. He’d slowed down and emphasized more of the words with his face- something that was mortifying to him- solely for Antonio’s benefit. 

He was still nothing compared to his brother, however, or most of the deaf community. Hell, what he made an effort to do while trying to teach Antonio wasn’t even as much as most did on a daily basis. Most would have gotten frustrated with Lovino’s technique within the first few minutes.

But not Antonio.

The point of believing Antonio was doing talking to Lovino for the novelty had long since passed. No one was so dedicated when they just wanted to be able to gloat about how they spoke with their hands, yet him and Antonio had been speaking for the better part of two months and Lovino was getting tired of deciphering Antonio’s sloppy signing. The bastard had a way of changing exactly how he sucked so he could never quite get used to it.

Antonio began waving his hand around when Lovino got to pointing out the difference between an ‘m’ and an ‘n’. Lovino stopped signing, though his hands still hovered in the air, and he raised a brow at the Spaniard. 

_‘Lovino, I k-n-o-w t-h-e alphabet. I s-p-e-l-l a lot.’_

Antonio looked so genuine. He always did. But Lovino didn’t miss the frustration underneath that dopey smile this time; the tightness in the corners of his lips and the ends of his brow. Lovino’s serious teacher face softened the smallest amount.

_‘And it’s bad.’_ He replied, simply. 

Lovino reached across the small round table they were sitting at- the one that had been deemed ‘their table’ by both Antonio and the late night baristas- to grab a tan, calloused hand. He pulled the thumb and pointer finger back out into the shape of an L and tucked the other three fingers tightly against the palm. Antonio’s fingers moved easily into the proper sign without any resistance for which Lovino was grateful. If he was going to refer to Lovino, he was at least going to do it correctly without his pinky finger halfway extended in the sign for ‘I love you’.

At the odd look that Antonio gave him, Lovino felt the need to clarify. He bent his hand into the proper L shape where only two of his fingers weren’t clenched and he pointed to it with his other hand. In the air he drew a large, very obvious ‘L’. Then he kept his thumb and pointer finger extended, but also lifted his pinky finger. He pointed to it just as he had the last one and fingerspelled _‘I l-o-v-e y-o-u’_ with his non-dominant hand. 

These meetings usually called for informal- and often times incorrect- sign language to communicate meanings. Lovino didn’t mind in the slightest. Not when Antonio would watch him with such a concentrated expression. It was probably the only time Lovino saw the other man without a smile, as his lips turned down into a determined frown. It made him look serious and it gave Lovino a funny feeling in his stomach area. 

Antonio’s expression shifted, however, from that sexy concentrated expression into an odd, unreadable sort of one. Lips pursed, eyes narrowed; Lovino wasn’t sure what to make of it. 

It was gone quickly enough. The sunshine smile returned and he nodded his head enthusiastically. Then he very deliberately copied the first sign with- finally!- perfect form.

Lovino pumped his fists outwards in the most enthusiastic expression he knew. He thought he might have smiled too. 

_‘So, are you ready to listen now?’_

Antonio gave him a blank look. None of those particular signs were that intuitive, so Lovino began the painful process of trying to fingerspell them all since Antonio had decided that there would be no memo typing when they were in a “lesson”. 

And so continued their typical Friday night.

Lovino should have known it was inevitable, really, after they met the first two times that they would keep meeting like this. Apparently both he and Antonio had the same habit of showing up at _Good Vibrations_ on Friday nights. Those nights were the wildest, completely perfect to become insignificant in. 

Lovino went there to get lost amongst people that, if they knew him at all, only knew him by a reputation he had made for himself. But somehow, after that first meeting getting lost was how he found Antonio, and becoming insignificant made him that much more significant to the Spaniard. 

Their eyes would meet from a different distance every time. Sometimes Lovino didn’t notice him until he was right in front of him and usually touching him, and other times they were across the dance floor. Most of the time it was like some kind of sixth sense. He _knew_ when Antonio was there, and Antonio seemed to know when he was there as well because they always ended up dancing with one another. 

If Lovino knew anything about Antonio it was that he upheld his Spanish heritage. _God,_ that man could _move._

It wasn’t always the same. Some nights they would leave together very shortly after finding one another, groping and scarring some poor taxi driver. Other nights they would hang out at the café until very very early in the morning when neither of them were coherent enough to keep up a decent conversation. 

But they always danced. 

Sometimes they danced quick and franticly, pushing and pulling and spinning, crashing into one another like a tidal wave to the shore. Other times they were more sensual, hardly ever pulling away from one another. 

At first they only met on Fridays, then on Fridays and Saturdays, and then outside of the club entirely. They met up for lunch or went to the museum together, talking and making conversation more than touching, and that was just fine with Lovino. It was the most legitimate relationship- friendship or otherwise- he’d ever been in, and Antonio was even more serious about whatever this was. The man stuck to his word, and every week he got better and better at signing.

That’s not to say his form improved _at all,_ however. He may have known more signs, but he was just as sloppy about his finger placement and the directions- he really had to sit the bastard down and have a talk with him about this someday because sometimes the meanings were completely different than what Antonio intended to say. Lovino thought he was relatively good at deciphering meaning through the most heavily accenting signing, but sometimes Antonio was so completely off when he signed that Lovino had better luck reading his lips.

As Antonio got better at asl, and as their location became more intimate and casual their relationship only improved. Antonio learned about Lovino and his childhood- mostly Feliciano- and Lovino learned about Antonio’s life back in Spain. 

Lovino found he was in a better mood most of the time now that he had someone to talk to. His brother had even commented on it when he voluntarily called his brother. But even when he was sporting his usual bitchy attitude, Antonio was just as patient and understanding. They’d gotten close. Very close in such a relatively short time. 

It was like Antonio understood him in a way Lovino didn’t even understand himself. The bastard always seemed to know what to say, even when Lovino only insulted his signing or his grammar. He’d only smile his cute, infuriating little smile and wait it out until the Italian started feeling guilty for being such a dick. 

What really scared him though, was that he actually cared when he thought he’d upset Antonio somehow. Lovino wasn’t used to feeling this vulnerable without taking his clothes off. 

It was safe to say that their relationship was going very, very well, but it got frustrating.

The more time the two spent together, the more comfortable Lovino was with showing the Spaniard physically just how much he meant to Lovino. It wasn’t that he was new at this kind of thing. Not by any means, but actually _knowing_ the person that was pinning him to the wall or the couch or wherever they ended up was more exciting, more intimate, and he never had to be afraid that they would try to whisper in his ear, or look at him oddly when he never cried out.

It was always a little bit different, just like when danced. It was rough, it was intimate, Antonio was in charge, then Lovino, but it was never _enough._

Lovino had no idea what they were to one another. 

Were they friends with benefits? Potential relationship partners? Boyfriends? Something else entirely?

But they never talked about it. Antonio never brought it up, so Lovino never mentioned it and the routines continued without any clarification.

Until one night. 

Lovino was pressed up against his front door as Antonio ravaged his neck. He was nipping and sucking a large love mark into the sensitive skin there while his hands were trailing up and down his stomach towards a very sensitive area, and it made Lovino’s hands shake too badly for him to be able to jam the key into the lock. 

He gave up when Antonio pressed him up against the door completely, his hand trailing a path of fire down Lovino’s arm to the keys clutched tightly in his hand. The Spaniard took them from his hand and while hardly looking, managed to unlock the door in the same amount of time it took for Lovino to regain his breath back. 

Lovino pulled him into another kiss and steered Antonio into the apartment- the bastard as terrible at multitasking- before he shut the door himself and the light from the hallway was reduced to a tiny sliver underneath the door. 

The first few times they had gone home with one another Antonio was adamant about keeping the lights on in some form or fashion, no matter how embarrassed it made Lovino. At first Lovino had thought that the Spaniard wanted to make it more intimate. He hadn’t known if he was flattered or offended when he realized Antonio was doing it so they could still sign back and forth. 

But when Lovino taught him his favorite way to communicate in the dark it had absolutely blown his mind, for whatever reason. 

Antonio placed his hand on Lovino’s shoulder before trailing it down to his wrist and back up to the soft skin behind his elbow. With a gentle touch he slowly, sensually began tracing letters onto Lovino’s arm, marking up his neck all the while. 

‘Let me’

One last kiss was placed on his lips before Antonio went down on his knees. Lovino’s hands, which had previously been on Antonio’s back, fell uselessly to his sides as he felt his pants being undone and slid down his hips. His head was fuzzy, but it nothing compared to the aching in his stomach when Antonio’s hand cupped the bulge in his pants. 

His cock stood at attention once the barriers were removed and pooled around his feet. The room was dark, and from the moonlight streaming through the window Lovino could vaguely make out Antonio’s shape as he knelt in front of him, his large hands holding him by the hips and keeping him pressed up against the wall. 

Those hands began exploring, one of them trailing teasingly slowly to his erection and stroking it with butterfly motions; his grip so lax it was hardly any stimulation at all. His hand gained force and speed as time passed, and he started sucking little bruises on Lovino’s hip bone just to make him squirm. He noticed when Antonio’s mouth pulled away, but he was still pleasantly surprised when he felt a tongue drag itself across the head of his cock. 

Antonio’s eyes were practically glowing. A beam of light from the window landed in a perfect strip across his face so that Lovino could see his eyes and the desire and the lust swimming inside of them. In this lighting they looked large and dark, and incredibly enticing. Lovino was almost disappointed when they disappeared from view as Antonio took a few inches of Lovino into his mouth. 

Almost.

Lovino’s hands went from grasping uselessly at the air by his sides to gripping Antonio by the hair. The bastard was taking his time tonight, leaning back every so often to tease the slit or trace his tongue around the head or play with his balls. One harsh tug on the curly locks tangled into his fingers and Antonio went right back to business and Lovino’s hips canted at the vibrations that followed. 

The hand that had been resting on Lovino’s hip to keep him in place began to move, trailing with feather-light touches from his hipbone to his lower back under the shirt, and back down towards his ass. While his mouth and his right hand were busy with Lovino’s erection and his balls respectively, Antonio’s left hand began to prod at his entrance.

Lovino’s hands clenched to a degree that was surely painful for Antonio when he felt a finger slip into him dry and he used the skin just beneath Antonio’s hairline to trace out a word. 

‘Lube’

Antonio seemed to get the picture, and he retracted both his finger and his mouth, much to Lovino’s displeasure. The Spaniard placed a sweet little kiss on his hipbone, right where the skin was darkened just enough to tell it apart before he replaced his lips with a finger and traced his reply. 

‘In my room’ He answered, giving the head of Lovino’s cock another teasing flick of his tongue. 

Lovino wasted no time replying and instead grabbed Antonio by the hair and hauled him back to his feet. The Spaniard stood clumsily, swaying a bit before he found his feet and began following Lovino further into his apartment towards his bedroom. For not being in his own house, Lovino knew how to get around in the dark impressively well. The thought sent little tingles through his head. 

The trip to the bedroom might have been faster had they not stopped every few steps to lock lips again. Antonio had even taken the opportunity while they were in the threshold to give Lovino another hickey that he could complain about later. 

They fell together in a heap on the bed once it was in reach, Lovino falling heavily onto Antonio and breaking their kiss. Laying on top of him Lovino could feel Antonio’s chest heaving up and down as if he’d run a marathon. They were pressed together so completely that Lovino couldn’t tell which heartbeat was whose.

Within that instant the atmosphere had changed. Antonio’s hand come up to gently cup the side of Lovino’s face and bring him down for another kiss. This one was slower but deeper than last. It was sweet and savory and made Lovino’s chest feel like it was about to explode. 

Since he was already lying on top of him and his arms still had nothing to do they set out on a little hands-on exploration. He knew Antonio’s body well at this point. Weeks of falling into bed with one another lead to certain knowledge. But there was something different about it now. It felt more intimate than before, even though both of them were still almost fully clothed.

Antonio reached up to trail his hands underneath Lovino’s shirt. They ghosted over his stomach and around his waist to massage little circles into his lower back. The sensation went right to the pit of his stomach and made his breath quicken. 

He’d never quite understood how Antonio could do so much at once while they were tangled together in the sheets. Lovino had a hard time concentrating enough to kiss him properly, much less to do anything else. He would have thought himself the lesser lover had Antonio not told him otherwise over and over again. 

His hands began to ghost a trail up towards his face again, taking Lovino’s shirt with them. They had to break away from their kiss to get it over his head, and Lovino felt like losing that miniscule moment of contact was like losing a limb. 

The moment was extended, however, when Lovino decided that it was about time Antonio lost his shirt as well. The feeling of their bare chests touching when he draped himself back over Antonio made it all worthwhile. 

Rather than locking lips again, Lovino began to trail kisses down his jaw and to his neck. If Antonio was going to mark up Lovino’s skin, it was only right to return the favor. Antonio tilted his head to make it easier as Lovino left wet kisses in his wake as he trailed to the juncture between his shoulder and his neck, and the rumble he felt beneath him when he sucked it between his teeth proved that he had found the right spot. 

Antonio’s hands were never still, and even now, as Lovino worked on creating a nice, big lovemark, Antonio’s hands had found their way to Lovino’s ass. When Lovino gave him a particularly hard nip, Antonio gave his cheeks a squeeze. 

Lovino wiggled his hips a bit to better position himself and was granted with another low rumble as he rubbed against Antonio’s clothed erection. One of the hands left his ass as he guessed Antonio was groping around for the lube. He must have found it again, because Lovino felt a slippery finger rubbing between his ass cheeks just a moment later. 

The feeling made him break away from the abused spot on Antonio’s neck with a jolt, and he grabbed at Antonio’s shoulders when he felt the finger wiggle into him. For the first time since they entered the bedroom Lovino opened his eyes. The curtains on the window were wide open, leaving plenty of light for them to see by from the combination of the moon and street light that was right next to the window.

Antonio’s pupils were blown wide, making his emerald eyes look large and endless. The swooping feeling Lovino felt when he made eye contact with him was new, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the way Antonio was looking at him, or the fact that he was looking in the first place. The expression on his face looked almost like he was in pain and it only gathered depth when he realized Lovino was looking at him too. 

It made Lovino’s stomach feel tight, and his heart felt like it was in his throat. So he distracted himself from it all by leaning down to kiss him again, their tongues tangling together in a known dance. 

There was still only one finger inside of him, slowly stroking his walls and driving him insane. When Antonio finally added a second finger it only stoked the fire, making Lovino squirm against Antonio and rubbing his cock painfully against the large bulge in Antonio’s jeans. It wasn’t until Antonio added the third finger that he finally found Lovino’s prostate, whether by accident or design he wasn’t sure. The lightning bolts of pleasure made him break away from Antonio, his mouth open and his chest heaving as he arched upwards and pressed Antonio further into the bed. 

Antonio granted him a few more moments of it before he gently pulled his fingers out and began to push Lovino up a little bit. Deciding to help out, Lovino use one arm to prop himself up as the other trailed down to the button on Antonio’s pants. The jeans and boxers were quickly discarded, but Lovino didn’t fall back down onto Antonio yet. 

He snatched the lube from Antonio’s hands, and awkwardly balanced as he squirted a generous amount onto his palm. He gripped Antonio gently as he covered him liberally in lube, stroking him slowly and purposefully. Eventually Antonio got tired of the teasing as he grabbed Lovino’s wrist to get him to stop. He was pulled back down into another kiss as Antonio lined himself up and began to push himself inside, lifting his hips up off of the bed to do so. 

Lovino slowly sunk down onto Antonio. He could feel himself stretching to accommodate the large cock, and the feeling was familiar and mind blowing all the same. There was a little pain, but it was ignored in favor of the boiling pleasure that was engulfing him. 

They’d had sex before. Many times, in fact, but there was something different about tonight. It was the same kind of different that he’d felt when they were pressed together on the bed, and the same kind of different that he’d seen in Antonio’s expression. Everything felt hotter and more intimate, and as Antonio sheathed himself completely inside of Lovino it increased tenfold. 

Nothing had changed in the past week that Lovino knew of, yet he felt more complete now than he could ever remember being. 

After a moment of remaining pressed together Antonio began to move, pulling himself out just slightly before pressing back inside. It was slow, and it could be partly because of the position they were in with Lovino lying on top of Antonio. But something told Lovino it wasn’t entirely that.

Lovino began to move with Antonio, just as slowly, just as sensually. Antonio hadn’t even found his prostrate yet, nor were they moving very quickly, but Lovino already felt like he was drowning in pleasure. The large hands on his hips guided his movements, keeping them together, pressing deeply inside of him. Lovino’s hands were on Antonio’s shoulders, tilting himself upwards to try and find the spot that would shoot liquid fire into his veins. 

His heart was beating frantically when they finally began to pick up speed. They moved together gracefully, moving away from each other only to come back together a second later. When Antonio finally found Lovino’s sweet spot the Italian arched, pressing his cock against Antonio’s stomach and grinding down. 

At some point Antonio had flipped them over, making Lovino jolt in the process. Antonio propped himself up just enough to keep the pace, but whenever Lovino arched their chests were still pressed together. From this angle it was both easier for Antonio to press against Lovino’s prostate, and for Lovino to tug Antonio down by his hair into a kiss. 

This was what Lovino loved. Feeling every inch of the body pressed against him, inside and out. He could feel the heaving breaths, the vibrations deep in his chest, and, if he paid attention, their hearts beating frantically. 

Sweat made their bodies slide against each other easier, and made their movements more fluid against one another. Once Antonio reached for Lovino’s member, pumping it in time with his thrusts, Lovino knew the end was near. Antonio’s thrusts were gaining speed and force, sacrificing depth for force, but they were also more unsteady. Lovino moved against him, rolling his hips one last time before he came, painting their stomachs in his essence. 

Antonio came soon after, pressing himself deeply into Lovino and –if the resounding vibrations were anything to go by- groaning long and low. 

They stayed like that, pressed against one another, until Lovino moved to shove Antonio’s shoulder and push him off. Antonio begrudgingly complied, pulling himself out of Lovino before rolling over to lie next to him.

Lovino laid there enjoying the post-sex high and the feeling of the bed dipping next to him. Antonio moved to clasp their hands together and Lovino laced his fingers through Antonio’s.

Eventually the come on their stomachs began to dry and Lovino moved to get up with the intention of cleaning himself off before it got any more disgusting. 

The lights in the bathroom were bright and harsh after getting used to the limited lighting in the bedroom. Lovino had to squint to find his way to the shower and turn it on to the right temperature. When Antonio found his way into the bathroom just a moment after, he pulled Lovino into the shower with him with no regard for the actual temperature of the water. 

The cold water woke them both up from their sleepy, satiated daze, but did nothing to ruin the contented feeling that had washed over them. Antonio pulled Lovino to his chest, shielding himself from the cold spray and forcing it all onto Lovino’s back, though he doubted the bastard knew what he was doing. The Spaniard was always much more cuddly after they’d had a good romp, and there was no way to defend himself from his affections. 

Especially because Lovino was usually a lot calmer as well. 

As expected, Antonio was curled up against Lovino, his head tucked in the crook of his neck, like they weren’t standing in the shower while Lovino was forced to endure the slowly heating water. By the time it reached a semi normal temperature Antonio had begun placing little butterfly kisses on his neck and the side of his face. Lovino pushed him back a little bit so he could set about actually cleaning himself up. 

When he didn’t feel a Spaniard latch onto him as soon as he’d turned around, Lovino peeked back over his shoulder to see Antonio just… standing there. He was hardly even wet except for a few rogue drops that had made it past Lovino and all the way to the back of the shower, but he wasn’t moving to do anything about it. His expression was conflicted, pinched for a reason that completely escaped Lovino.

 _‘Bastard, what’s wrong?’_ Lovino asked, sacrificing the little time he had to bathe in hot water to try and wipe that look off of his face. Antonio looked at him analytically before heaving a great sigh. Lovino merely raised a brow in response. If he didn’t get an answer soon he was kicking Antonio and his mopey face out of the shower. 

After a moment of hesitation Antonio finally lifted his hands, and signed _‘Would you speak for me?’_ His movements were fluid, and there was no fingerspelling involved, leading Lovino to believing that he’d been planning to ask this for a while. 

Well, too fucking bad. 

Lovino shook his head, his expression resolute, and he turned back towards the spray of water and pretended that he hadn’t seen the devastated look on Antonio’s face. With a dollop of shampoo Lovino began violently scrubbing at his scalp, trying to rid himself of the sudden tension that wasn’t befitting his post-sex daze. 

His rough hands were replaced with two larger, gentler ones, and Lovino practically melted as Antonio began massaging his scalp more than lathering the shampoo. His head had always been a rather sensitive spot for him, and he knew Antonio was more than aware. 

When Antonio removed his hands and Lovino turned around to rinse the suds from his hair Antonio struck again. If he didn’t know better he would have said the bastard looked timid. His sign was simple, but held more weight than Lovino thought he could bear. 

_‘Why?’_

Instead of answering, Lovino ignored him. The Italian moved from the spray of the water to the space underneath as he went about washing his face. The water acted as a poor barrier between the two of them, but somehow Lovino was comforted by the small distance. 

That was broken when Antonio moved his head underneath the water, effectively replacing the water barrier with a tan back that was gone as quickly as it came. The Spaniard had to reach around Lovino to reach the shampoo, and the Italian was ashamed that he flinched like he thought Antonio was going to hit him or something. He wasn’t willing to break the barrier again to rinse his face off, even if Antonio was still facing away from him. The dejected slump in his shoulders was enough for Lovino to never want to see him without the distortion of the water ever again. 

Lovino simply left the substance on his face as he moved on to scrub his body clean. He was quick to finish up and rinse himself off before he hopped out of the tiny shower entirely, leaving Antonio to the cooling water to finish up by himself. He had never been as thankful for Antonio’s lazy two-in-one shampoo and conditioner as he was in that moment so he didn’t have to turn around to face Antonio again to rinse anything out of his hair.

After drying off and getting dressed in an oversized T-shirt- he hated falling asleep in pants- Lovino threw the towel in the general direction of the laundry basket. Normally Lovino was adamant about putting the dirty clothes in their rightful place, and even though it was Lovino’s preference and not Antonio’s he still felt it was to spite him.

He wondered if he should change the sheets. There wasn’t any come on them, since it had all ended up on their stomachs, but they were rumpled and likely smelled of sweat. Lovino decided to leave it, and flopped face-first onto the bed instead. 

Antonio stayed in the bathroom for quite a while but Lovino wasn’t sure if he was just extending his shower, or if he was stalling. There definitely weren’t any clothes in the bathroom, since Antonio hadn’t brought any clothes in there and his dirty clothes usually stayed in the hamper at least. 

Lovino was half asleep by the time he felt the bed dip, his face buried deep in a pillow. He was too relaxed to move when he felt a hand in his hair, nor when he felt Antonio move down to cuddle up next to him. In fact, he might have cuddled back. Just the smallest bit. 

Despite the warmth of Antonio curled up against his back Lovino still couldn’t fall asleep. His hair was still damp and chilly against the pillowcase, and there were too many thoughts swirling around in his head for him to doze off completely, so he stayed in the frustrating limbo between sleep and consciousness for a while longer. 

Why? Why did Antonio want him to speak of all things? His voice was probably the thing Lovino was the most ashamed of. He’d been loud as a child. Very, very loud. And, as he was told by all kinds of people, very obnoxious. Lovino had never known what kinds of noises he was making, of course. Sometimes, if he hit the right pitch at the right volume he could feel his voice in his throat or on his tongue, but he’d never really understood what all of that meant to people who could hear.

Usually that was when people chastised him the most.

It was all kind of theoretical to him. He understood that things made different noises, but it was a sense he’d never had anything to do with. It was like explaining color to a person who had been blind their whole life, or explaining salt to someone who couldn’t taste. It was a separate reality. It was something that he knew existed, but could never really fathom himself. 

In audiology classes they’d tried to teach him how to speak. How to bend and shape his mouth into the correct sounds, but Lovino had failed at that as well and he was constantly compared to his brother despite their differing circumstances. 

Feliciano, like Lovino’s mother, wasn’t completely deaf. He had been very hard of hearing as a young child- so much so that he couldn’t understand people unless he had hearing aids in and the speaker was looking directly at him, but he could still vaguely hear sounds, however muffled they might have been. 

Feliciano was able to speak, unlike Lovino. He understood the difference between sounds and shapes of his mouth because he could hear them if they were loud enough. After he’d gotten cochlear implants his speech had only improved, and he often saw his brother get complimented about “how great he was at speaking for a deaf guy”.

But Feliciano wasn’t deaf. Not completely. _Lovino_ was deaf. He’d never been able to hear a thing. Not with the help of hearing aids. Not when it was blasting directly into his ear. He knew how a person’s mouth bent to form certain words, but he had no comprehension of the sounds that went along with it. How did ‘oh’ sound different than ‘ah’ when they both felt the same? Why did the slight difference in his mouth make so much of a difference?

It wasn’t impossible for someone with no hearing whatsoever to speak. Lovino had been told by nearly every family member for virtually his entire life. His mother could speak. Feliciano could speak. These other completely deaf people could speak. So why couldn’t Lovino? Was he just too dumb?

And that’s what most people ultimately thought about him, wasn’t it? That he was dumb or disabled in some way because he was deaf and mute. Most people thought that Feliciano, his half-wit brother was the smarter one when he was forced to translate Lovino’s sign into something other people could understand. 

He wasn’t smarter. He was nicer, and that was a very, very big difference.

If people didn’t want to learn his language- a language that he’d been told was “easy”- why should he make a fool of himself to try and speak theirs? Even when he had genuinely tried to excel in his audiology classes he was never able to accomplish anything. They’d never been able to move on from the difference in each vowel. 

Was Antonio going to leave him too when he refused to speak to him? 

Lovino could read lips fairly well. As long as the speaker wasn’t slurring or talking too quickly Lovino usually never had a problem making out what they were saying. He could write in proper English and sign to communicate what he needed in both America and Italy. Technically, he spoke three languages. Why did his inability to speak back or hear something that had o visual or physical clues make him disabled? He could get around on his own with absolutely no help unlike someone who was blind. He could compete in sports and the like unlike someone who was paralyzed. He could drive and live on his own and form healthy relationships and hold down a job without any special privileges. Was it really so pitiable that he couldn’t hear and in turn couldn’t speak?

Maybe he was disabled. He’d never been able to get a hand of that “facial grammar” they always talked about in school. Which, of course, Feliciano had excelled in with his expressive mannerisms and absolute need to communicate with _everyone._ He had never understood why he had to bend his expression into such exaggerated shapes when his hands said enough. If whoever he was talking to couldn’t tell the difference in the shape of his hand then how was that his fault? If he signed correctly wasn’t that enough?

He felt his facial expression represented the tone of what he was saying enough that it shouldn’t have been exaggerated to such ridiculous lengths. When he’d seen others signing with the correct “facial grammar” it had reminded Lovino a clown or a court jester, not someone who was meant to be taken seriously. 

He just wanted to sign. Maybe write if he had to. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself with his expression or his voice. That, however, was something that most hard-of-hearing people did not agree with. He had to conform to what they believed made a normal person, and that was such utter bullshit.

He had thought Antonio knew that, however. He’d thought Antonio was the first person who really understood that. Had he been wrong? They had never talked about Lovino’s deafness, of course, aside from the occasionally reference to how Antonio was going to learn to sign for him. Maybe he didn’t even know how deaf Lovino really was, and maybe the idea would completely turn him off of the idea and he’d leave him for someone that was easier to communicate with- easier to understand. Someone who could speak to him and hear him when he spoke.

The gentle pressure against his back and around his waist reminded him that Antonio was still here with him now, but what about a few weeks from now? A few months? Was his mutism really going to stop him from having a decent relationship with someone who was hearing?

Antonio had been trying so hard since they’d met to learn asl and communicate with Lovino in his language. Would he expect Lovino to do the same for him? He could probably learn Spanish- the bastard’s native tongue- and become fluent in both its written and signed form before he could ever properly say anything beyond the babbles and gurgles that he was sure he produced when he tried to speak. 

With the idea of disappointing Antonio leaving a heavy feeling in his gut, his hair dried against the pillow and he resigned himself to a night of little sleep. Just as he was settling in for the spiral of depression he was sure to explore for the next few hours, he felt the body behind him shift, pull him closer, and then tug at his right side as if trying to get him to roll over. Lovino complied only to be met with the shirtless chest of the man as he leaned up and over to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. 

_‘What?’_ he asked irritably, frustrated that the particular sign made him sit up uncomfortably from how he was leaning so he could use both hands. 

Then Antonio asked the question that had been on Lovino’s mind for the past few weeks- the one he still didn’t have an answer to after hours of contemplation. 

_‘What a-r-e we?’_

Lovino moved to sit up so he could use both of his hands, mirroring Antonio’s cross legged position. Lovino contemplated how he should respond for a moment before he decided that it was probably best to fingerspell the more complicated words. This wasn’t the kind of conversation they could have over a phone, but they didn’t need any misunderstandings either. 

_‘What d-o you m-e-a-n?’_ he asked, though he knew exactly what Antonio was asking. There was such a serious look on his face and it scared Lovino. Was he already breaking it off? It was so unlike the Spaniard to give up after one denial being the persistent bastard that he was, but was it really such a big deal?

Antonio’s jaw was set when he replied, like he didn’t like his own question. _‘B-o-y-f-r-i-e-n-d-s? F-u-c-k b-u-d-d-i-e-s? What?’_

Lovino chewed his lip as he thought about what he should reply with. He knew which one he wanted to choose, but which one was actually correct? His eyes darted towards the sheets on the bed, as if they could somehow provide him with an answer, but they weren’t forthcoming in the slightest. He felt the bed dip and wiggle as Antonio adjusted on it, and he slid his eyes back up towards the man. 

He actually looked _nervous._ Was he just as worried about the answer as Lovino was? The trepidation in those emerald eyes gave Lovino an odd sort of confidence. Even if they were dreading different answers, Lovino wasn’t alone in his fear. 

With a sharp inhale and drawn out exhale Lovino gathered the rest of his courage. His reply was hesitant. _‘I like boyfriends’_

Antonio’s eyes grew wide, and he looked at Lovino with the oddest expression he’d ever seen. His mouth was open just slightly into a neutral oval, and his eyebrows were raised and pinched. But the oddest of all was his eyes. They looked panicked, and watery, and so _confused._

So that was it then. Antonio hadn’t really wanted anything else from him in the first place. He supposed that was fair. They’d never talked about it, nor had they made any sort of commitment. Lovino must have just misinterpreted the look in his eyes and the intentions behind the small, innocent touches. 

Whatever. Lovino tried to disregard the heavy sinking feeling in his chest and the stinging in his eyes, but they seemed too powerful to ignore. Lovino watched as Antonio raised is hands again if only so this would all be over quicker. 

_‘What? What i-s-‘_ the hand motions that followed were vaguely like the ones Lovino had just done, but they were off and very sloppy and a little backwards, and Lovino realized Antonio was trying to ask him what he said. 

Oh. _Shit,_ he forgotten to fingerspell. 

_‘I l-i-k-e b-o-y-f-r-i-e-n-d-s’_ He repeated slowly and deliberately. 

The ugly expression on Antonio’s face melted as he put the word together in his mind. Before Lovino had even finished spelling out boyfriends Antonio had slumped over in what looked like relief. Lovino was pulled into a bruising kiss before he could finish the ‘s’ at the end of the word, but he found that he didn’t quite mind. 

When Antonio pulled away once the kiss had delved past the two minute mark they were both gasping for breath like they’d just gone another round. Antonio was smiling, and when he finally responded with a sweet ‘me 2’ drawn on the bare skin of Lovino’s thigh he felt his lips bending up to match.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long. Since the last chapter I drove from Texas to South Carolina to move into an apartment of my own with all the physical labor involved, got in a wreck on the fourth of July and totaled my car, and it’s been a mess trying to sort all of that out. So here I treat you with an extra-long chapter, and an extra-long deaf culture note! 
> 
> There are three versions of Sign Language often spoken in the United States. SEE, PSE, and ASL. Think of them as different sorts of dialects.
> 
> ASL (American Sign Language) is a language all on its own with its own grammar rules and syntax and words and all the things that go with being a language. The grammar difference is severe, as ASL makes signing as simple as possible to understand without a lot of fluff that is in English. For example directly translated from ASL something may mean “My mother me try point explain but no-listen, [interjection]” When it would translate as “I tried to get my point across to my mother but she wouldn’t listen”. This is often what people who have been speaking sign language their whole life use, or people who are a big part of the deaf culture. It is the fastest way to sign, and the form in which facial grammar and all the things Lovino hates are often looked at as necessary. A big part of ASL are little things in the body language such as how many times something is rotated or repeated, how forceful the motions are, the expressions made or the words mouthed. Lovino and Feliciano both use ASL, especially when speaking to one another. I imagine that if he speaks it for long enough with Feli, Lovino will start to use facial grammar like he was taught in school. 
> 
> PSE (Pidgin Signed English)- also known as Contact Signing- is a pidgin language, meaning it is a language that develops naturally over time when two cultures mesh that do not know each other’s language. In this case PSE is a combination of ASL and proper English most commonly used by people who learn to speak ASL later in life after already learning English. It does not have one specific set of rules, and is often seen as more of a colloquial way of speaking (sort of like the Ebonics of sign language- it is simultaneously its own dialect of language and a type of slang). PSE follows more closely with English grammar and syntax, but still tends to leave out the most unnecessary words like ASL does such as helping verbs or articles when it’s intuitive. This is what Lovino uses to communicate with Antonio, and what Antonio is slowly getting the hang of.
> 
> SEE (Signed Exact English) is a form of sign language that directly translates English into hand gestures. SEE involves signs for words that do not exist in ASL or PSE to be able to put proper English exactly into a sign language. This is often what armatures or people who do not know the differences use. SEE is what Antonio had been using, though he fingerspells the words that he doesn’t know a sign for (or that might not have one). At the very beginning SEE was also what Lovino was using to communicate with Antonio so it was easier for him to understand but it didn’t last very long because it makes signing harder and more complicated. 
> 
> Despite the differences between all three, and the fact that they are used at different times, I will not be changing the way I put sign language into words. This is all told from Lovino’s point of view and he can understand all three fluently, so I see no reason to write it as if there is much of a difference to him aside from fingerspelling. For all three the signs are the same for the most part and Lovino can understand them all, so, for easier reading, things that are said in sign language of any kind will all be put into proper English. I just feel the difference should be acknowledged.
> 
> Now get reading!

Lovino was used to doing things he really didn’t want to do. 

For as long as he could remember until his late Middle School years he had been enrolled in an audiology class. The teacher was a strict old hag that would push and pull his face around to try and get him to speak orally. Mrs. Hammons was her name, and she absolutely hated Lovino. The Italian never really understood how to make the right sounds but he was sent to the class year after year regardless by both his parents and his teachers. It was necessary, they said, if he wanted to be able to function.

Despite the propaganda, Lovino thought he was doing pretty well without it. He had a job, a social circle, _and_ a boyfriend and the only thing he had learned from that class was how to sign quickly enough that his teacher felt just as dumb as he did. 

There were many events he had to be present at to keep up the Vargas image that he really _really_ didn’t want to go to, but someone always dragged him out of the house. He had to socialize, sign slowly enough for most of the people to understand, and force smiles for people who were so proud of their elementary signing skills.

When he’d transferred to a public high school rather than the private school for hard of hearing, he’d had to take a foreign language even though he was fluent in both American and Italian sign language, and while everyone else was forced to do oral presentations and auditory examinations Lovino sat uselessly in the back and only pretended he was learning to read and write French.

So he wasn’t new to doing things he really didn’t want to do. Like most people it was a fact of life. 

But he absolutely, positively _refused_ to introduce Antonio to his family, despite the dramatic pleading from both sides. 

_‘But you’ve never been this serious about anyone, just one dinner!’_

_‘But you s-a-i-d you w-o-u-l-d think a-b-o-u-t i-t.’_

_‘But we met that fat guy a few years ago.’_

_‘Are you ashamed of us?’_

_‘A-r-e you r-e-a-l-l-y t-h-a-t nervous?’_

_‘Are you afraid we won’t like him or something?’_

It was driving him completely insane. It seemed like it came up in every conversation they had one way or another. So what if Antonio had been bugging him about meeting family since shortly after they had gotten together? So what if they had been dating for almost six months? So what if they’d known each other for eight? Who cares if he practically lived at Antonio’s house now? Did it really matter?

The last time he’d introduced someone to his family- his first boyfriend, even- the relationship had gone downhill fast. Lovino hadn’t been half as into that guy as he was Antonio and so far it looked like they had a long healthy relationship ahead of them. He didn’t want to ruin that. 

Antonio could deal with Lovino better than he could deal with himself. Antonio knew when he needed space or when he needed a hug. He may not have always known what to say, nor did he always know how to convey it, but he was a much more physical man anyway. Antonio knew how to calm him down and cheer him up at the very least and, really, what more did a boyfriend need to do?

About a week after they’d gotten together Lovino had sat Antonio down and had a serious talk with him about how awful of a person Lovino really was. Antonio had listened without interrupting and then politely disagreed where he thought Lovino had been wrong. And after making Lovino cry by being such a sweet, sappy bastard he had shared all the less than favorable things about himself.

Antonio had tried to tell Lovino that he was dangerous of all things, which had only made Lovino snort. So far the bastard had seemed about as dangerous as a teddy bear. In fact Lovino often felt safer around Antonio. That conversation quickly turned into a heated debate about cars that got so intense it had to be taken to the memo pages of Antonio’s cell phone.

And then Lovino’s when Antonio’s phone had died.

Dating Antonio was fun. For once in his life Lovino didn’t regret a decision he’d made regarding someone else, and that was a big fucking deal for him. He didn’t want to ruin it by introducing him to his family. 

But Antonio was such a persistent bastard, he just didn’t quit.

_‘A-r-e you ashamed o-f me? B-e-c-a-u-s-e I d-o-n-t sign very well?’_

When Feliciano had asked him that question he had scoffed and called him dumb, but when Antonio asked his stomach felt like he had swallowed a pound of lead. Maybe it was the utterly devastated face he was wearing, or maybe it was how completely wrong the question sounded.

Of course he wasn’t fucking ashamed of him. If anything _Antonio_ should be ashamed of _Lovino_ most of the time. 

Lovino balked, bewildered by the complete change in topic. They had been talking about Lovino’s old house in Rome- his grandfather’s villa- when Antonio had decided to drop that bombshell.

And Antonio looked so _sad_ too, like Lovino had already confirmed what Antonio thought. 

They must have really looked like a couple in the middle of an important discussion because the barista that was coming over to refill their glasses suddenly set the pitcher down on a random table and began cleaning another like that was her intention all along.

_‘Really?’_ Lovino asked, indignant that the question even needed to be asked. _‘Give me your phone, bastard.’_

If Antonio was going to make him say a bunch of different things he really didn’t want to say he at least wanted them to be understood. The question had been asked enough that Lovino knew Antonio knew what he was asking. The Spaniard dug into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his phone. It had a considerably shorter battery life these days, and the case was looking rather worse for wear, but it was such a staple in their relationship by now that neither saw the need to fix any of it.

As soon as the phone was in Lovino’s hands he pulled up the memo pages, took a deep breath, and started typing. 

‘I could never be ashamed of you, and certainly not because of your signing. You’ve haven’t even been studying it for a year and you’re already so good, and I’d be proud to let them know that. Especially considering what shit you were at first. I’m not ashamed, I’m afraid.’

When Lovino looked up to hand the phone back he was met with big pitiful green eyes. They were both feeling vulnerable right now so instead of slapping him like he really wanted to Lovino just shoved the phone into his face so Antonio would quit looking at him like ran over his dog.

Lovino didn’t watch as Antonio read his little confession. He wasn’t so complimentary often and it embarrassed the hell out of him. He didn’t need to watch to know that Antonio was probably going to smile his cute dumb smile and look up at him like he wanted to hug him until his guts popped out. He didn’t need to watch to know that after that he’d finish reading and narrow his eyes just the tiniest bit at the vague ending Lovino provided, and he certainly didn’t need to look up to see when the phone was pushed back into his hands.

‘U r so sweet! But what r u afraid of? That I wont lik ethem?’

Lovino balked, his mouth twisted into a cynical little grin. That wasn’t even a possibility. The bastard was so much like his grandfather and his brother that they’d surely hit it off right away and then the Spaniard would see that Lovino really wasn’t so great after all.

But fuck if he’d actually tell him that.

‘That you’ll like them too much, actually. But I don’t see why it’s such a big deal. I haven’t met your family either.’

‘I dont understand. And that we cn change! Mama has been wanting to met u’

‘Why can’t we just leave it like this? I don’t want to ruin it or make it more complicated by bringing in family.’

That seemed to give Antonio pause, because Lovino looked up after a second to fiddling with the hem of his shirt to see the Spaniard just looking right back at him. He had a weird expression on his face. It was reminiscent of what he looked like when he was frustrated, but even though Lovino had only seen that a handful of times he knew it wasn’t quite the same. Maybe it was because even though his lips were pursed tight and his eyebrows were pinched and furrowed he still had those doleful puppy dog eyes.

They looked at each other for a minute, both of them trying to figure out what the other was thinking. Antonio was the first to crack, his eyes darting over to the front door for a second when someone walked in and then they were pointed back at the phone.

Antonio heaved a great sign and then started typing very slowly and carefully. Lovino wondered, vaguely, if he was going to break up with him. He entertained the idea of taking up a hobby if he did break up with him so Lovino could fill all the time that he would suddenly have again.

‘I have nevr been more serious about a person before u. I do not see thisending anytime soon but if u want to wait then that is also ok. Family is v important nd I dont understand why u dont want me to meet them but I will respet it if it is what u want’

Leave it to Antonio to make him feel both guilty and swept off his feet with a few sentences. Why did relationships have to be so frustrating? He thought they were supposed to be fun or something like that.

‘It’s not like we’re never going to meet each other’s family. I just don’t think I’m ready. Families expect things .’

_‘Not mine’_

Lovino was caught off guard when they suddenly went back to signing but he wasn’t going to complain. It was always easier for him to communicate this way rather than passing a phone back and forth, even if Antonio didn’t really understand everything he said.

_‘They probably do, you just don’t know it’_

There was a lull in the conversation then, shortly followed by Antonio asking something random and effectively changing the topic.

_‘What a-r-e you d-o-i-n-g f-o-r t-h-e fourth of July?’_

_‘Nothing.’_ He replied, easily. Their family had never been big on purely American holidays. The only one grandpa really seemed to care about was Thanksgiving, and that was just because it was an excuse to invite everyone he knew over to the house.

_‘Mother i-s h-a-v-i-n-g a party. She wants you t-o c-o-m-e. Nothing big’_

Antonio wasn’t going to let this meeting the family thing go any time soon, was he?

The idea of a family dinner with someone else’s family scared the living hell out of him. It was an excuse to sit and be interrogated. It put the pressure and the attention entirely on him. But a party? That was different. There were lots of people, and the host was too busy trying to be sure everyone was there and happy to focus on asking Lovino what his intentions with Antonio were, or why he wasn’t taking summer classes to get through college faster. 

Antonio knew he’d gotten him. Lovino could tell by the look on his face, smug little bastard. Even the hopeful tilt in his eyebrows didn’t make up for that self-impressed smirk. 

Lovino rolled his eyes, but nodded nonetheless, and he couldn’t even pretend to be peeved about it when Antonio flashed him a large, triumphant grin. 

The rest of the week went by slowly, monotonously, with at least one conversation a day about why meeting the family was something to be worried about. Antonio continued to insist that they would love Lovino, but the Italian wasn’t so sure. He could act nice and impress the family when he needed to but he knew Antonio was going to get upset if he acted sycophantic and generally nothing like the man that he was dating- there had already been a conversation about it and everything.

Perhaps it wouldn’t have seemed such a daunting task if anyone at the party signed, but Antonio’s mom had even said that she didn’t think anyone there would know anything past the alphabet. If they did it had never come up in conversation at the very least. So it seemed the night was going to be full of Antonio translating whatever Lovino was saying to other people while he became the party spectacle for being less socially capable than the rest of the people at the party. 

Antonio had assured him that it would be fine. Lovino was sure that it wouldn’t. 

By the time the week had ended and the night of the party was upon him Lovino didn’t feel any better about the entire situation. Antonio had been excitedly preparing him for everyone he was going to meet today at the party but knowing more about them only made Lovino more certain that everyone was going to hate him.

Unless everyone turned out to be exactly like Antonio, that was.

No, on second thought a room full of overly cheerful Spaniards might just be the death of him.

When the day came Lovino was no less convinced that it wasn’t going to be the worst night of his entire life or anyone’s in the history of ever. However, trying to express this only made Antonio laugh as he opened the door of his old-as-creation truck so Lovino could climb inside. 

The drive was a lot longer than Lovino had thought it was going to be. They’d practically gone to the other side of town, past the railroad tracks, before Lovino thought to ask how long the even drive was. Of course, now it was pretty much too late to ask so he had to settle himself with the fact that he knew Antonio’s mom lived in the city, at least, so they couldn’t be driving for that much longer. 

Even still, it was another fifteen minutes before Antonio turned off of the main road and into a neighborhood. The houses were all much smaller than Lovino was accustomed to and many of them were painted bright eye-catching colors. Rather than classic off-white walls or rustic green trim, the majority of houses were painted bright blue, red, pink, and yellow. On some, where the paint hadn’t been reapplied for years, it made the houses look diseased. But the well maintained houses seemed to make up for that, brightening up the neighborhood. 

Luckily, the house Antonio pulled up to was one of the well-maintained ones. It was painted a festive yellow, and next to the bright white and cyan blue of the neighboring houses it seemed to shine like a sun. It fit Antonio, he thought. 

It was definitely a small house- two bedrooms at the most- but the owners obviously cared for making it look nice. There was a kept garden out in front and the windows had colorful decorations hanging from them. There were cars parked all around the house, and up into the grass on the left side of it. This was a bigger celebration than Lovino had been expecting, and he wasn’t quite sure if that made him feel better or not.

The hand on his arm brought him back to attention. 

_‘Ready? This i-s my mom’s house.’_

Lovino had given him a small smile- because he managed to sign almost the entire thing without fingerspelling _not_ because he was any less nervous- and climbed out of the truck. 

As they walked up towards the door Lovino made sure to stay at least a foot behind Antonio, but he was still hauled up to stand beside him as Antonio rang the doorbell and waited for it to be answered. 

It was answered by a plump, dark-skinned lady that looked remarkably like Antonio. Her face was round and friendly looking, and her long curls spilled over her shoulders in an unruly cascade. The woman greeted them and started addressing the two of them with words Lovino couldn’t decipher from her lips alone. Either she was speaking a separate language or her accent was very, very thick. 

Antonio was waiting respectfully for her to finish what she was saying before he responded, but it was starting to make Lovino very uncomfortable that she kept looking at him while she was speaking. Without being able to understand her Lovino wasn’t sure if she was trying to talk to him or not, and he was reminded of when he was a little kid stuck in an audiology class when he couldn’t read lips and he couldn’t communicate with his hands.

Didn’t Antonio tell his own mother that the guy he was bringing with him- the guy he was dating- was completely deaf? 

It seemed Lovino wouldn’t know for a while, because the women’s mouth continued to move and Antonio seemed very adamant about not interrupting. Lovino felt like they were standing there for a full five minutes before she quit talking and gesturing animatedly at the two of them and Antonio finally responded.

Lovino still got no context on the situation, apparently. He couldn’t read Antonio’s lips right now either (which he’d come to realize meant he was speaking in Spanish) so he stood quietly, mutely next to him.

It occurred to Lovino then, as the conversation went on around him on the doorstep of Antonio’s mother’s house, that this was how he’d spent most of his life, and this was probably how he was going to spend the rest of- completely depended on someone else for basic communication and left out of pretty much everything. 

They hadn’t even gone in the house yet. This night was starting off splendidly. 

When Antonio finally decided to update him the polite, reserved smile on Lovino’s lips had unintentionally morphed back into a scowl that felt much heavier than usual, but he didn’t bother trying to lift it when he looked to his side. 

_‘She i-s my aunt, Lucia, and she i-s very happy t-o m-e-e-t you.’_

For all the talking they had done, that was all the explanation that he’d gotten. He knew tonight was going to blow. Yet, when he turned back to Lucia- his aunt apparently, even though they looked so similar- her hand was stretched out towards Lovino and there was a smile on her face that Lovino knew intimately from looking at Antonio’s face for a little too long.

His scowl lessened into a small smile again, and he shook her hand with a polite nod.

Finally the women stepped aside and held the door open, presumably inviting them inside in a tongue Lovino didn’t understand. There were so many people inside the small house, Lovino felt claustrophobic before he even stepped inside. From where he was standing he could tell people were probably spilling out into the backyard and back into the bedrooms. 

Lovino wasn’t ready for this.

When Antonio made his presence known the room practically exploded. At least half of the people mingling in the small, adorably quaint living room flooded towards him. Though a little more than half of them were men he had been pulled into a hug by everyone that had approached him and Lovino was left standing just inside the door.

This was where Antonio belonged, Lovino realized. Here, surrounded by all the people that seemed to adore him. Lovino had only ever seen him when the dynamic only involved interactions between the two of them and occasionally a service worker. It had been nothing like this. 

Normally Antonio was a very sunny person. He was warm and friendly, but in this little house surrounded by people that spoke his native tongue Antonio was the sun’s incarnate. The bright yellow of his mother’s house in twilight seemed like mud compared to him now with his bright smile and expressive eyes. 

Lovino didn’t think he’d ever seen him so happy. But of course he wouldn’t have. When he was speaking to Lovino their conversations were engaging, but never uplifting. They often ended with Antonio mentally exhausted from translating everything through two different languages, and emotionally fatigued from talking to a person that had the personality of a brick. 

Lovino was very near texting his brother and asking him to come pick him up, or going back out to wait in Antonio’s car. When Lovino had originally imagined this night he had pictured Antonio standing next to him for the majority of it and translating what Lovino said to the others. Now none of them spoke a language Lovino could interpret, and it would have been cruel to pull Antonio away from the people that he was so happy to be speaking to. 

But by the same token wouldn’t it have been low to sulk around like a melodramatic teenager or storm out like someone who had been completely wronged? Antonio had been so happy when Lovino decided to come, and he hadn’t even met his mother yet. For that reason, and that reason alone Lovino stayed by the door. Perhaps he could get through this night if he turned into a wallflower. If no one tried to speak to him, he would be golden. 

Except, of course, as soon as he had made this decision someone decided to talk to him. 

Lovino had glanced at the girl that stood next to him when she walked over, but then he’d directed his attention back to Antonio. The girl had to wave her hand in front of his face before he realized she had been trying to talk to him from where she stood to his side. 

On a closer inspection Lovino realized the girl looked like the wall flower type too. Except she really looked like a wallflower: pretty and delicate yet incredibly plain. In comparison, Lovino felt more like a weed.

Lovino really, _really_ didn’t like this night. 

The girl was trying to talk to him, and all Lovino could do in response was shrug and point towards his ears and hope she understood. 

Except she hadn’t. And Lovino could tell by the furrow in her brows that she was probably a little confused, a little insulted. 

God, of course Lovino would insult a part of Antonio’s family within the first ten minutes. One glance to the side showed that Antonio was still too preoccupied, so Lovino shrugged again, his expression pinched in desperation, and pointed to his lips.

Whatever the girl thought Lovino had meant, it must have been upsetting because her casual stance was completely gone. She stared at him, her lips pursed like an indignant housewife, and Lovino knew he had no other way to tell her that he couldn’t hear. He could only barely mouth the words correctly, and certainly not in Spanish. 

He tried one more thing, the thing that had miraculously worked on Antonio. He pointed to his ear and dragged it down to his mouth. Her eyes only narrowed, and she crossed her arms. The poor girl probably didn’t know what to think. She was probably hoping for some light conversation with the handsome man by the wall, and now she was probably offended to some degree, thinking that he was just refusing to speak to her.

This had been exactly- _exactly_ \- what he had been afraid of. Fuck Antonio his optimism and his family.

The girl’s already dark skin darkened more, and her expression changed to one that seemed much more mortified. Lovino was afraid that he had pissed himself or something before he realized that she was looking behind him. When he followed her eyes he saw another woman that seemed to be addressing them as she walked closer. The conversation between the two women was short before the younger girl scurried off and was replaced with the older. 

Everything about this new woman was dark. Her hair was a shiny black, her eyes such a dark brown that the pupil was nearly indistinguishable. Her skin was darker than Lovino’s own, darker than Antonio’s even, with a variety of wrinkles and sunspots that gave away her age. Even still, there was a certain light Lovino could see within her, and while Lucia had looked like Antonio this new woman felt more like him. Her smile, however reserved, felt like the sun. 

_‘Hello, I am Antonio’s mother, Aleta’_

And she signed!

So apparently Antonio had told his mother that the guy he was bringing was deaf, and she’d even gone out of her way to learn a phrase for him. Lovino gave a shaky smile in the response as he began to sign a question. Though he was almost completely positive that the answer was going to be negative, he figured it was worth a shot. 

_‘Do you sign?’_

The woman stared where his hands had been for a moment before offering him a smile and a shurg and Lovino couldn’t help but be a little disappointed even if he’d known the answer already. 

They continued to stand there for a moment, Lovino looking over at Antonio who was laughing at some joke that someone in the circle must have told. When he felt a hand on his arm briefly just above the elbow, Lovino turned back to look to see the woman gesturing towards another part of the house, and he followed when she began to walk that way. 

They ended up in the kitchen. It was bright despite the waning light outside. The peach color reflected the light coming from two overhead lightbulbs and seemed to magnify it, which was surely why the plants were thriving on the windowsills. There were less people in this room, despite the food scattered across the cabinets, and most of them offered him a polite wave before returning to their previous conversation. 

Aleta had gone to rummage through a drawer next to the fridge, and Lovino waited politely until she had pulled out a pen and a pad of paper. Grabbing a seat at the old oak dining table next to him, he waited until Aleta came over to sit next to him. The pad was slid over to him by a gentle, well-worn hand. 

‘Antonio had told me much about you’

Aleta’s handwriting was beautifully loopy, but still easy to read. It was the kind of handwriting that deserved its own font, Lovino thought. Nothing like her son’s scrawling handwriting. He reached over to grab the pen to write a response, already well accustomed to this way of talking back and forth from his time with Antonio. He wondered, vaguely, if Antonio had told his mother that this was probably the easier way to talk to him. 

‘Good things, I hope.’

Aleta smiled towards him and nodded before responding, and it made Lovino’s heart feel a little too full. This was exactly what he hadn’t expected. He probably should have, considering what Antonio was like, but it was flattering to know that this woman was willing to accommodate Lovino’s condition to speak to him privately rather than relying on Antonio to translate. 

‘He really likes you. Never has he worked so hard to learn as with asl. I told him someone that can make him do that… I must meet them!’

Lovino smiled, though Aleta hadn’t written anything he didn’t already know. The woman had such a natural charm about her. It came across even when he couldn’t hear her voice or her inflection. It came across in the way she addressed him on paper and how she had decided that he was worth her time while she was hosting a party. 

‘That’s very flattering, Aleta. Antonio had told me a lot about you as well. He likes to talk about your skill as a gardener and how you can befriend anyone. I can see he wasn’t exaggerating.’

Aleta gave him a look, eyes narrowed but lips turned up in a playful smile. Lovino couldn’t believe he had been worried in the first place. 

‘Antonio did not tell me you were so charming. I am glad you are his boyfriend.’

The simple sentence made Lovino flush violently. Though they had decided they were dating ages ago it still had a way of embarrassing him. He was dating someone as attractive and considerate as Antonio. It didn’t feel like it should have been real. Unfortunately, the embarrassment also kept him from being able to come up with a decent response, and he sat staring at the pad until it was easily taken from him again by Aleta. 

‘I was afraid when he first told me he did not like girls. I regret that I did not handle it well. I did not really understand it. I understand now. He talks about you so happily, I do not think there is anyone else better for him.’

Maybe television had ruined Lovino’s idea of family meetings, but weren’t they supposed to go a lot more confrontational than this? So far he had merely been accommodated and complimented by this nice woman. In a way, Lovino thought he understood Antonio better now. 

‘I can see why Antonio loves his mother so much. You are a very nice woman.’

Aleta gave him the look again, but Lovino couldn’t help but try to charm this woman. She was friendly, everything Antonio had said she was going to be, and her opinion of him mattered more than he would like to admit. 

‘So what of your family?’

The question confuses Lovino, and he’s not quite sure what Aleta meant by the question. Did she want him to talk about his mother and brother? 

‘My brother is hard of hearing like my mother. My dad left when I was young, so my grandfather moved in with us to help take care of me and my brother. I have so much respect for my mother and grandfather. Me and Feli- my brother- were not easy to take care of.’

Aleta had to look at the pad for a long while when it was pushed back over to her. Lovino realized that she was probably just like Antonio and didn’t speak English natively. Should he have written it in a simpler way? Or should he have said less? Maybe he answered the wrong question entirely, and she’s wanted to know something completely different.

Lovino was almost dreading what it would say when the paper way back on his side of the table. 

‘Antonio’s father left too before he was born. My sister, Lucia, helped raise him. You have a lot the same like that.’

A wave of guilt crashed over Lovino when he realized that he hadn’t even thought to ask Antonio about his father. They’d hardly talked about his childhood or his family aside from his mother and his friends and his hobbies. Lovino hadn’t even realized his mother had lived on the other side of town where he had never gone for fear of it being too dangerous.

He didn’t really know anything about Antonio, did he? Did Antonio even have a job? They had known each other too long for these questions to have no answer Lovino could readily give. 

‘I didn’t know that. Antonio doesn’t like to talk about his childhood a lot.’

The face Aleta made when she read what Lovino had written made him regret writing it in the first place. Her lips were pursed in a tight little frown, but her eyes looked sad. Perhaps she’d expected as much, but hoped for more. Lovino knew that feeling well.

‘Maybe. It was not an easy time for him. I am so proud of what he has become now.’

‘What was he like, if you don’t mind me asking. I find knowing people’s pasts can sometimes help you understand them now.’

Aleta seemed all too eager to respond to Lovino’s question, and with the passion of a single mom she began scribbling on the little pad of paper until the first page had been filled up and she flipped to the next to finish her thought. In the meantime, Lovino analyzed the surroundings and the people who were mingling on the other side of the kitchen. 

‘Antonio was always very ambitious. He thought he could fix everything. Lucia used to tell him that he was the man of the house, and I think he always believed that it was his duty to take care of us. He’d come home from school carrying a bunch of rocks in his pockets and I’d ask him Antonio, what do you have there? Why so many rocks? And he would tell me Silly mom, I found gold, see! So now you can come home in time for dinner and you don’t have to work so much. I really could not have asked for a better son.’

Lovino read the entire thing twice, and he was still just as speechless. As a child himself Lovino had been completely absorbed in himself and his own problems. Being told he had a disability had made him completely concerned with people’s view of him. He hadn’t wanted people to think that he wasn’t able to do the same things. 

Maybe Lovino and Antonio were also alike in that way. They had both been trying to prove to the people who mattered that they could be something great and useful, despite the circumstances.

Lovino was right in the middle of trying to scribble some vague response down on the pad of paper when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. The sudden pressure made him jump, and his eyes quickly darted up to look at Antonio who was talking to his mother with an odd expression on his face. 

Antonio’s face was pinched in a way that almost looked offended as he spoke with his mother. Lovino, once again, tried to figure out what they were saying but they were still talking in what he assumed was Spanish. 

Did anyone here tonight speak English natively?

When Antonio turned to him and began signing Lovino felt like he could practically melt. Not being able to understand what people around him were saying made him feel isolated, frustrated, and confused. Even writing on the pad of paper with Antonio’s mother for that small amount of time had been nice if not a little forced. But Antonio’s sloppy, jigsaw sign language was a welcome change.

_‘Sorry, I h-a-d not seen my cousins in a long time. I d-i-d-n-t m-e-a-n t-o leave you alone.’_

Honestly, Lovino didn’t think he was all that upset about Antonio getting swept away with his family anymore. Aleta had saved him from a horribly awkward confrontation and given him someone to talk to in the meantime. From the time with his mother he felt that he understood Antonio more. He certainly had learned things about him that he hadn’t known before- things he’d never thought to ask.

_‘It’s okay. I liked talking to your mother. She was nice. I learned a lot.’_

Antonio had made a face then and, likely unable to figure out what sign would be used to represent what he was feeling, he turned his attention back to his mother. It only took a small exchange between the two before she bid them a goodbye and took her leave. Lovino assumed she had to go check on the food and the other guests. 

With nothing to occupy him anymore Lovino felt a little lost. Antonio was back beside him again, but his conversation had been taken away from him. 

Luckily Antonio seemed to know what to do next. 

Lovino’s hand was grabbed and he was pulled to his feet, following behind Antonio as he was led out to the backyard. 

_‘F-i-r-e-w-o-r-k-s!’_ Antonio had signed as they walked. Lovino wasn’t sure if he didn’t know the right sign for the word or if he didn’t want to let go to Lovino’s hand to sign it. 

There were people in the backyard pressed against the side of the house in rows as a few others were moving around in the center of it. Antonio pulled Lovino down to sit on the ground up front with him as the men tried to set up the first firework. 

In the time Lovino had been talking to Antonio’s mom the sky had darkened drastically. The first few stars were now poking through the sky and it seemed like the perfect lighting to set off fireworks. 

As a kid Lovino had loved fireworks . Though he knew they had some element of hearing in them, it felt like they were made entirely for people like Lovino and his brother. They were bright and beautiful, and so powerful that you could feel them in your core if you were close enough. The last few years Lovino hadn’t gone to the firework show put on by the city since he hadn’t had anyone to go with and he refused to go with his brother while he was with his boyfriend. He was excited to feel them again, and he couldn’t think of anyone more fitting to go with.

Antonio tapped on Lovino’s shoulder, and Lovino turned to look at him. There was just enough light to see by, even though most of it was residual from the house. 

_‘What d-i-d my mom talk a-b-o-u-t?’_

_‘You as a child’_

Lovino had been briefly afraid that Antonio wouldn’t have understood him, but when he buried his head in his hands Lovino knew he had understood plenty. 

Antonio made a very dramatic show of his response to what they had talked about. He didn’t stop pretending to brain himself on the ground until Lovino had begun to smile. 

Dumbass. 

_‘S-p-e-c-i-f-i-c-s’_ Antonio asked, his face twisted as if the question was painful.

The first time Lovino responded, Antonio hadn’t understood it, so he tried again.

_‘You and your g-o-l-d r-o-c-k-s’_

Instead of trying to brain himself again, Antonio began to look a little melancholy. 

_‘It was very cute.’_ Lovino said, trying to lighten the mood. 

Antonio had held out a finger with one hand and reached back to grab his phone out of his pocket with the other. Lovino knew whatever Antonio wanted to say, it was probably more complicated than usual. He didn’t pull out his phone much unless he didn’t think he could make his point with his limited sign language. 

‘She wuld to take the rocks when she wento work and shed come home holding $ bills and talking about how helpfull they were. Shed bring me a candybar home too and tell me I had earnd it’

‘She sounds like a great mom.’

‘Yeah I was lucky.’

And maybe it was the fact that the meeting with his mom had gone better than he had imagined, or maybe it was because Antonio, with his rough childhood on the poor side of town, said he was lucky, but Lovino was suddenly feeling very, very sentimental. 

‘So am I.’

Antonio had looked up at him, but Lovino hadn’t let him question what he’d typed. Lovino wrapped his arm around Antonio until his hand was splayed around the back of his neck, and he pulled him in to a kiss, gentle and passionate.

There were fireworks.

Literally. One of the men had set them off. 

Though Lovino didn’t look up to see the colors explode in the sky he felt the explosion rattle his bones. He was so close to the fireworks, and he was so close to Antonio, and he didn’t know how this night could have gone better than it had even if it had barely started.

He was in love with Antonio. He knew it. The stupid Spaniard had taken over his heart with his sloppy signing and goofy, sunny personality. Lovino had never felt like this before. He’d had many flings, years of fooling around with different people, but Antonio was different. Antonio felt like he was meant to be a part of Lovino’s life. Like something would be missing without him. It was a feeling that Lovino didn’t know how to handle. It was overpowering and suffocating. It made his chest hurt. It made him feel like he belonged. 

And maybe it was the fireworks exploding above him, or the sturdy feeling of Antonio’s lips against his. Maybe it was because he was completely out of his element but when he pulled away, and he was sure he had Antonio’s attention he bent his hand into an L shape and he lifted his pinky up. 

That time when Antonio signed his name wrong, Lovino couldn’t have been happier.


End file.
